The cook sleepily told him to go get the food himself. He huffed a laugh and went to the hall where the servants were arranging crafted flowers in vases.
These maidservants, he knew, had all been children of the Pavillion once. He had also had to do similar tasks in the past, but the older he got, the less he did the work of a servant, aside from attending his mother.
“Could I bother one of you to go to the market and buy some food for mother?”
“I will do it,” one of the maidservants.
She was a beautiful girl, and could just as well had been one of the ladies of the Pavillion, only she was uneducated and did not know how to dance or sing, nor did she know how to discuss various matters with the men who visited their establishment. Laž’ar knew that he wouldn’t be able to be a servant here, and while he pretended not to understand much, this day he had a particularly strong feeling that he wouldn’t be able to stay no matter what.
He lowered his gaze then turned around with the words “be quick”. He paused for a moment then added: “If possible something with fish and otherwise very light. The Lady of the Pavillion is not to become ill, or you’ll be responsible.”
“I know. The Madam would skin me if I harmed her goods.”
He returned to the third floor to have the other children woken up. They may not be servants, but they all had their tasks, some of them attending to their parent, others running about doing errands, either for the proprietress or the women and divine of the Pavillion.
“Zallaž!” he heard as soon as he stepped onto the last step.
He turned his head with a smile hiding his worries. “Ah, already away, little one?”
The young girl ran up to him and took hold of his robes. “Up, up!”
With a chuckle, he lifted the little two-or-three-year-old. He could still remember when she, her brother only two years older than her, and their divine elder sibling had arrived. They had been dirty and starving. No one understood why the proprietress hadn’t sent them away, but Laž’ar had a guess.
The only reason the Proprietress allowed someone in was if they were of noble birth, meaning that these three were nobles. But why they would have been in the state they had arrived in he couldn’t say. Not to mention, he could not understand why they were siblings. He could perhaps understand if the eldest had shamed the family, but what about the children. The little ones would not know what happened, and their sibling would not speak of it.
No one at the Pavillion spoke of the past. There were only the visiting men, the present, and survival.
In many ways it was little surprise that a place like the Rose Pavillion would be have been established where it was.
“Little one,” he said and the child hugged him tightly. “Where’s your brother?”
“Sleeping.”
“Go wake him up for sibling Laž’ar , hmm?”
“But Zallaž is prettier.”
Laž’ar couldn’t help but laugh. “You can help me out as we prepare for the evening, all right? But first you have to wake up your brother. If Shaleriam wakes up, ask if they want help tonight?”
“Will Zallaž play with us tonight?”
“Ah… That…”
Laž’ar fell quiet.
“Zallaž?”
“I’ll ask mother.”
“Then I will help!”
He put the girl down and watched her run toward one of the room not far from the stairs.
He stood in place only for a moment, but his heart felt even heavier now.
All preparations for the evening went well. No one got scolded and Laž’ar’s anxious heart settled some by the time it was time for his mother to prepare.
He had spent the day in the kitchen, not wanting to bring the two little ones into the garden. A little regret was harboured as he had not been able to practise his writing or painting.
“Mesallaz.”
With one foot out of the kitchen, he looked back, and the cook held some pastries for him to take.
“Have these. I hear your mother has been eating poorly these past few days.”
Turning, he looked at the cook. He put his hands together in a gesture of gratitude. “You are too kind.”
“Don’t mention it. There were some ingredients left over, so I thought I’d make use of them. Have her eat them if she can. Doesn’t she still perform?”
He nodded.
“Hurry now, before someone takes those away from you.”
With a smile he turned again and hurried up the stair to where his mother’s room was. He put the pastries on the table and washed his hands before he lifted the bed curtain.
“Mother, it’s time to prepare.”
His mother stirred for a while, before she slowly opened her eyes and looked at him for a long time.
“You’ve grown more mature again,” she suddenly said.
“Mother, I’m just a child — how could you claim I’m mature?”
His mother tsked. “First you say one thing, then you say another.”
“Is mother in a bad mood?”
Without another word, she sat up slowly, coughing a few times. Seeing this, Laž’ar turned to the small stove and immediately lit a small flame and began preparing medicine for her to drink. The fragrance of the incense mixed with the bitterness of medication as it came to a boiling point. He put it to cool, then poured her water in a ceramic cup.
“Mother, please rest today. If we need money, I can think of something.”
“You are not allowed to work at the Pavillion.”
Laž’ar smiled. “Mother misunderstood. Of course I didn’t mean to work at the Rose Pavillion. It is evening now, so it’s not much use now, but I’m sure I can find somewhere.”
His mother studied him for a long time, making him lower his gaze and look somewhat wronged.
She sighed.
“Laž’ar , you don’t have to work so hard.” She gently caressed his cheek before she put some stray strand behind his ear. “Why do you always go against your destiny?”
“Are you chasing me away because I’m not living up to my name?”
It was as if she had been burned, pulling her hand back. Her child continued to look down and continued to speak.
“I don’t mind if I live a little filthier, mother. I just wish to stay by your side. I’ll marry into a nice family and bring you—”
The slap stunned him. His cheek didn’t sting so much, but it had shocked him into silence. He looked at his mother with wide eyes.
She had never raised her hands against him even when he said the most ridiculous things, yet now that he was laying his heart bare all he received was a scolding.
His cheek didn’t sting, but his heart hurt terribly.
“Don’t speak nonsense!”
“Mother…”
“Are you trying to make me feel guilty? You’re barely older than the Sea Year, yet you speak of marriage! Which family would want you? Do you think I don’t have eyes? No ears? I already know you never speak what’s truly on your mind! How can you be this cruel to your own mother? Such an insincere son you are! Ungrateful child!”
Laž’ar opened his mouth to tell her, but he caught a glimpse at her trembling fist, and she was out of breath.
She didn’t notice his hesitation, nor how he closed his eyes and pressed his lips together for a few heartbeats, then smiled, looking down.
“Oh, you noticed? I suppose a mother truly knows her children the best.” He turned and walked to the curtain in front of the window pulling it away as well before he lifted away the wood covering, letting light in.
The light hurt his eyes, and he used a handkerchief to dry the tears, once used to the burning afternoon sun.
His mother spoke no more, and he untied the sash around his waist in silence.